


The story that no one asked for in which nothing happened

by FrentaFrone (frenc)



Category: SKAM (TV) RPF
Genre: After gullruten, Gen, pls read my notes before you read the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-09 16:04:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11108010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frenc/pseuds/FrentaFrone
Summary: When they decide they are done with the after party, the boys all went back to Tarjei’s hotel room, not ready to end the night and just to have a little chat about all that frenzy today.





	The story that no one asked for in which nothing happened

**Author's Note:**

> Although I think Henjei is a nice notion to think about, it’s also totally and utterly FICTIONAL. Henrik and Lea are a great couple and I support their relationship and however they choose to live their lives, and wish them all the happiness in the world. Tarjei too. So there’s that. 
> 
> The thing is, it isn't really about the actors is it. I have no interest in seeing them in a relationship in real life, and what I wrote is just in my head and totally didn't and probably won't happen. I only feel it's interesting to write about two people who are connected through such an unique and special experience and imagine how might one feel in their minds. And it really does not go anywhere beyond their Natural Connection™=)
> 
> Therefore, I truly hope this doesn't offend anyone. But if so, feel free to close this page and I sincerely apologize.
> 
> Finally, I’m really sad that Skam is ending… And I’ll forever miss them together as Isak and Even. *cries in Norwegian*

When they decide they are done with the after party, the boys all went back to Tarjei’s hotel room, not ready to end the night and just to have a little chat about all that frenzy today. Tarjei is pretty exhausted and sleepy from the excitement and anxiety and smiling and partying. The night has been fun and quite eventful, but Tarjei can barely open his eyes.

He drops dead on the bed, still in his dress shirt and suit pants. The boys are sinking into soft surfaces all over the room with their suits and shirts partially undone. Henrik is sitting on his right against the headboard, legs crossing on the bed, hugging a pillow in his arms and swiping away on his phone. He frowns a bit and starts typing, the light from the phone casts a shadow on his cheekbones through the pillow.

Marlon is laughing quietly to his phone, and Sasha leans in to see what’s funny. Then they start to talk about some movie star they saw on the dance floor and the rest slips Tarjei’s mind. David reaches for the TV remote, and soon enough the sound of random commercials fills the room.

There is a text alert from his phone in his pocket, but Tarjei decides to ignore it. He shifts to his side and drifts slowly off to sleep.

 

*

Tarjei awakes in the middle of the night, finding the room dark and quiet.

Then he sees Henrik, just lying there on his side of the bed facing him, head resting on his elbow, his other hand under his chin. He looks surprisingly conscious and awake, considering he was definitely a little more than tipsy when they came back from the party. He is staring at him. Tarjei cannot make out what he is thinking.

Neither of them moves or makes a sound. There is something quiet comforting and mesmerizing about listening to someone breathing, and after a long while, too long that Tarjei thinks he might have dozed off again, Henrik shifts onto his back and speaks in the lightest voice: “I should leave.”

“Why?” Tarjei can barely keep his eyes open.

Henrik didn't answer, breathing long and slow, his eyes on the ceiling.

“Do you have to?” Tarjei says after a while, drifting further away.

Henrik turns his head and stares at him, his outline is soft in the dim light.

“Stay then.”

Without waiting for a response, Tarjei buries half of his face in the pillow, it feels indifferent and wrong, with the unfamiliar smell of detergent, and strangely, cigarette. But he is too comfortable to care, curling himself into the warmth of the bed. He shuts his eyes tightly against the pillow and falls back to sleep in no time.

 

*

The next time he wakes up it's already morning. He sits up and looks around the room in half opened eyes. Henrik is gone, leaving an elbow shaped dent in the middle of his pillow, and wrinkled sheet in the area close to the edge of the bed.

His phone rings again. He sighs and braces himself for the weight of unwanted attention, lays back and pulls it out of his front pocket.

He calls his pops, just to check in with them, since they already talked last night, about the ceremony and winning and the “don't be sad about not winning the other one” and a thousand other things, he just reassures them he didn't drink at all despite the party was pretty wild, tells them again when the plane back home is gonna land, and thanks his dad for volunteering to pick them up. No one brings up the kiss cam incident, which is a huge relief. He doesn't think he is quite ready to talk it through with his pops yet.

Putting down his phone, he feels a little bit more awake, and in fact kind of pleased with this whole trip, and himself if he is honest. He feels he managed to get the kind of memory that you want to keep in the back of your head for rainy days. And that makes him smile.

He showers and changes into his most comfortable t-shirt and a pair of loose jeans. Then he drops face down onto the unmade bed, shifts forward and tucks the nearest pillow under his chin while reaching for his phone plugged under the bedside table near the windows. 

It takes him several seconds to realize that the pillow has this vaguely familiar scent, right under his nose. It's definitely not from the hotel or himself for that matter. Then he remembers the dent he saw when he woke up. (And was he talking to Henrik at some point?) Yes, it smells like Henrik.

For a short moment, he wonders what one should do when one is alone with a pillow on his bed that has his colleague’s(friend’s?) distinctive smell on it. Then he immediately sits up and looks at the wrinkled pillow, somehow feeling a little embarrassed even if no one's here.

He unplugs his phone and sinks into the chair near the windows, swiping through the videos and photos David and Marlon sent to their group chat from last night. He swipes up fast and sees around 5 or 6 photos and gifs in a row with the same huge, reddish colored frame around it. Without thinking too much he clicks on one of them.

All of a sudden it sort of hits him. Perhaps it’s watching the rather closed up 3rd person perspective on his phone; or the visual impact of seeing himself, as himself, in such an unusual situation; or the fact that it's him and Henrik in said situation, well, kissing that is, quite passionately, that makes him forget to breathe for a moment. He feels the air stuck in his chest and breathes in sharply before letting it out. He can remember it. He is reliving it right now in his head. And he doesn't know what he should do with this strange feeling in his stomach. For a minute he just sits there, phone in his hand, breathing slightly faster than usual, and staring into middle distance.

 


End file.
